


Eros

by Hotaru10join



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Angst, Character Study, Cliffhangers, Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 08:14:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24467791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hotaru10join/pseuds/Hotaru10join
Summary: Pitch Black could never feel alone. The darkness would always be there for him, ready to comfort him and would always be waiting for him. After being defeated by the Guardians, Pitch could no longer be comforted by the dark and felt more alone than ever thanks to the darkness. Until one day, a child was born from the loneliness.
Relationships: Pitch Black & Original Character(s)
Kudos: 3





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> The plan was to have my OC be a surrogate daughter and it'd be him projecting stuff about Seraphina (I haven't read the books) onto her but cuz he's all twisted, her idea of love is twisted and... she'd eventually be reborn and become 'Cupid' even if that has been around for.. eons. I dunno. This was so messy. I got burnt out before my OC could really even show up... Eh.

It was dark.

Darkness was something that he was used to, it was something that he could take comfort in. Comfort in the fact that the dark would always be there for him. It would be always waiting from him. He couldn't live without the darkness. It completed him. He would never be alone as long as the dark existed.

The dark would always be there to protect him, to shield him from the things that scared him.

It was funny. The fact that the Bogeyman would be scared of something. The Bogeyman, the manifestation of fear, the thing that parents would tell their children about to scared them straight. The Bogeyman being afraid of something so simple yet... it was everything but simple at the same time.

The thought, and reality, of not being believed in and forgotten terrified him.

For the first time in his life, the darkness could not comfort him.

For the very first time in Pitch Black's life, the darkness had made him feel more alone than he could have ever felt in his eternal life.

It was so very dark.


	2. Chapter One

Black.

That was what it felt inside of him; it was a thick, heavy oily and black tendril that coiled and attacked his insides, leaving slick and slimy trails of white hot hatred among his ribcage. That was what he would describe the fear and loneliness that consumed him. The fear and loneliness that gobbled him up and sank their razor sharp teeth into his grey flesh and tear through him like the wind did to dandelion seeds.

Pitch Black hated this feeling, yet he revelled in the thought of causing other people to feel this. His leathery cracked skin would tingle as sensations of making the children and adults scream in fear and shiver as terror attacked their bodies and creep into their minds. Euphoria. That was what he had felt when he would see their pupils shrink and the image of their greatest fears flicker and flash in their eyes. The way color would fade from their face, making them look like corpses and phantoms at the thought of these fears coming to life.

It was marvellous. When it was happening to someone else.

He paced through the dark halls, his footsteps' echoes sounding like roaring thunder in the deathly silent caverns that he would call home. Whispers of how no one will ever believe in him and that he will never ever be loved by anyone slid into and plagued his thoughts before turning into screams that rang like church bells in his brain. Images of these awful words manifesting into tentacles coiling up his limbs and sliding into the orifices of his head and ravaging his mind flashed in his dark eyes.

"STOP IT!" He screamed, his normally smooth yet icy voice cracking at the last sound that passed through his chapped lips that were frosted with dead skin. His legs trembled and his knees wobbled before his form slammed against the ground as he thought he saw the tendrils of fear slide towards him. "...How... could this be..." He couldn't finish the thought before gathering his thoughts and collecting himself.

This was pathetic. Nearly as pathetic as Jack Frost trying to fit in with the Guardians.

The only thing that was more pathetic than that, was the fact that he longed to be a part of that... _family_ , if that was the right word for it. He could have had someone. It could have been Jack, if only he had taken his offer.

Pitch's lips curled into a small smirk at the thought of Jack joining him, darkness and cold spreading across the world and plaguing the idiotic mortals that filled it. Thoughts of Jack looking up to him as a guardian, no a father. Thoughts of someone loving him. It comforted him. For a split second.

"...Isn't there anyone that could love something like me...?" He murmured, his voice trembling as he stared at his hand, taking note of the narrow spaces between the spidery digits and how small and slender one's hands and fingers would be to fit perfectly in the spaces. "...It would be nice... To have someone here, to help..."

To help him with what? Combating the dear that he created and that consumed him whole? To help him escape from this hole that was sealed up immediately after being thrown under the bed once again?

If he couldn't help himself out, he wasn't sure if he really wanted someone else to help him out. He had pride after all.

But, it would be nice.

A small chuckle escaped him as he closed his eyes, his body resting against the cool damp walls of the cavern. Warmth filled him as he let his mind wander free, free to think about someone to spend time with him and love him unconditionally. Like a child and a parent.

It wasn't black.


	3. Chapter Two

Pitch had found something else to comfort him as time went on, something other than the darkness that once filled that role of a safety blanket.

It was sappy. It was pathetic. It was idiotic. It was... human.

He scoffed at that word, his pride and narcissism preventing himself from even thinking for a millisecond that he was like a human. But, he could not deny the fact that his new comfort came from something as idiotic as love. Or rather, the thought of love.

Did he actually love something? No, he had to be realistic. He was in love with the idea of love. Although, 'in love' was not the right phrase for what he was feeling. It was the closest way of putting these thoughts and feelings into words however.

He imagined that he had someone, maybe a small child or someone about Jack Frost's age depending on how he was feeling at the time, to follow him around and for him to teach. He would teach them about the world, about how beautiful fear could be and about those damned Guardians. Possibly. Only if they asked about how they had gotten into this hole. If they asked nicely.

They were not like those brats that were spoilt rotten and screamed at their parents about how awful they were only to cling to them and cry when they wanted something or when The Boogeyman appeared. He loved scaring those types of children straight.

No, his child was polite and obedient. They waited for Pitch to finish speaking instead of interrupting them, unless they were especially excited and begged for him to tell them about The Dark Ages once again. They were sadistic and revelled in the thought of robbing mortals of their hopes and dreams and plaguing them with nightmares and drowning them in fear. It would make him proud.

Their appearance did not matter to Pitch. Though if he really had to be picky about something as petty as appearances, he would prefer a girl with a willowy appearance and jet black hair and to be as pale as the moon. Boys reminded him too much of that blasted child that believed in Jack Frost.

What would he name this perfect child? Something unique but classic, maybe after one of those characters of myth that humans loved to listen to stories about. He could have been generic and given his dream child a traditionally 'dark' name, like Raven (or Ravyn as some people would spell it) or Willow or whatever those 'Goths' in the Human Realm would give their children.

Eros.

Yes, it was a male name. It was the name of a god of love, not a was dangerously close to another goddess' name, Eris. The Goddess of Chaos. A name that would fit his child's nature but it seemed to imply that she was a chaotic mess that could not be controlled.

Eros represented love. The unconditional love that she would shower her beloved father with.

Yes. This was a comforting thought.


	4. Chapter Three

Sleep.

It was something unnatural to Pitch, it was simply something that he never did. He had no need to, or rather he simply didn't want to, sleep took up time. Time that could be used for plotting and planning domination, perfecting his beautiful nightmares, defeating the guardians and how to escape this blasted sealed palace.

Yes, he was the King of Nightmares. Yes, it was his duty (in his eyes anyway) to petrify mortals in fear by infecting their precious dreams with a single touch, among other things.

No, he did not sleep.

Lately, ever since his defeat by the Guardians, he would feel fatigue and sheer exhaustion. His razor sharp mind would grow weary, his eyelids feeling as if stones were placed in them, his once fluid and swift movements were sluggish, as if he was swimming in molasses.

It sickened him, to feel this weak and human.

He told himself that sleep would only be a means of killing time as there was nothing to do while he was sealed away. He told himself that he could not plan his escape and revenge on the Guardians and his old friend if he wasn't able to focus on something in this exhausted state.

"Sleep, my love. I'll be here to protect you," whispered nobody. Nobody tangible, nobody that anyone or anything could see. Nobody but Pitch could hear and understand.

Pitch shivered at the thought of the darkness whispering sweet words to him, sweet words that he longed to hear from someone else. It was comforting, in a twisted way, that the one thing would no longer find solace in telling him that it would protect him. This must have been what Jack Frost had felt when the children who at first could not see nor believed in him swore to protect him and the other Guardians.

Regardless, sleep would be the best idea. It would refresh his brilliant mind and body, it would kill time, it would save him from the fear. Just for a little while.

"Sleep," He murmured, finally succumbing to the act and his eyelids fluttering to a close.


	5. Chapter Four (Final)

**WORTHLESSPATHETICNOONEWILLEVERSEEORBELIEVEINSUCHAN INSECTYOUDARECALLYOURSELFKINGOFNIGHTMARESTHEBOGEYM ANTHEEPITOMEOFFEAR**

His black heart pounded inside his ribcage, the booming sound of his heartbeat echoing in the empty halls along with the wicked thunderous roars that screamed insults at him. The voices chasing after him as his spidery legs scrambled beneath him to get away.

_Get away. Get away. Get away._

Terror pulsed through his veins, his inky black blood turning into ice water, his hair standing up on the back of his neck and corpse-like skin as chills ran up and down his spine.

**DOYOUTHINKYOUCANESCAPEFEARPITCHBLACKDOYOUTHINKTHAT YOUCANRUNAWAYRUNAWAYLIKEAPITIFULCHILDAREN'TYOUTHEK INGOFNIGHTMARESBOGEYMAN**

His lungs and muscles burned, his throat and chest feeling like hellfire as he ran. He didn't know what he was running away from. All he knew was to get away.

The clopping of midnight black hooves against stone hit his ears, his heart nearly stopping at the sound. The whinny of many bloodthirsty and hungry stallions echoed throughout the cavern.

**HOWDOESITFEELTOBECHASEDBYTHEBEINGSYOUCREATEDPITCHB LACKTHEYCANSMELLANDTASTEYOURTERRORAREYOUPETRIFIEDP ITCHBLACKYOUCANNOTHIDETHEYWILLFINDYOUTHEYWILLDEVOU RYOUTHEYWILLDESTROYYOUKINGOFNIGHTMARES**

_nononononononono_

_. .GETAWAY._

He screamed until his voice was hoarse, his legs finally giving out under him. His lithe form slamming against the black stone under him, his shadowy flesh scraping against the rough ground, ink colored blood oozing out of the wounds and staining the already black ground under him.

_NONONONO_

The stomping of powerful hooves and legs grew closer and closer to him. His limbs scrambled across the rough surface, his cracked and scratched fingernails scraping painfully against the ground before something wrapped around his spidery legs and stabbing into him like thousands of thorns. He could not get up.

Sniffing and screeches reached his ears, hooves dragging and stomping against the ground rang in his ears like church bells, he could see the glow of his once precious Nightmares' golden eyes and the fog of their breath in the chilly air.

**GOODBYEPITCHBLACK**

He saw the flash of the mares' teeth for a split second before screwing his eyes shut and bracing himself for the pain of having his body torn a part and his fear and essence being sucked out of him.

"Wake up!"

_That voice..._

"Wake up!"

A small voice filled the hall, it was childish yet it did not belong to a child and it was easily identifiable as female.

"WAKE UP!"

Snapping into reality, Pitch gasped, air filling his lungs and his heart was ready to rip out of his chest from how hard it was pounding. No light entered his eyes, colors and patterns still rolling in front of his dark eyes from the darkness. Pearls of sweat rolled down his dead colored flesh, his feathery raven hair clinging to his face and neck.

Calming down after a few minutes that felt like an eternity, Pitch closed his eyes and slowly opened them to see a small frail figure sitting in front of him.


End file.
